Turn the Page
by Stoneage Woman
Summary: An AU tag to 9.10, 'Road Trip.' Sam has an epiphany. This is the conversation the brothers should have had at the end of the episode. Gen.


A/N: Wow, this is my first fic in 4 years! This is not so much an episode tag as it is an exercise in wish fulfillment, born of a growing frustration with the last few seasons of Supernatural because the writers keep repeating the same pattern again and again and again. This is how I wish that heartbreaking conversation had gone goe end of 9.10.

Title: Turn the Page

…

_Turn the page I need to see something new_

_For now my innocence is torn_

_We cannot linger on this stunted view_

_Like rabid dogs of war_

_I will let the memory heal_

_I will remember you with me on that field_

_- Poets of the Fall, 'War'_

…

"Alright, let me hear it."

Sam looks his brother in the face, and he knows, by the half resigned, half terrified in Dean's eyes that his brother thinks this is the end, that it's one betrayal too many, that they won't be able to come back from this. And yeah, he can sense an echo of all fury and betrayal he's_ supposed_ to be feeling- after all, Dean burnt off his tattoo, lied to him, yet again; tricked him into being possessed by an angel _and_ a demon.

It is unspeakable, possession. That first time with Meg, he had compared it, fleetingly and in the privacy of his own mind, to a kind of rape. After centuries with Lucifer in the cage, he now knows the difference, but it is still a horrific violation that makes everything inside him rebel. And Dean was the one to put him through that again, and Sam should never be able to forgive him, except that, as he stands there gazing at his brother, he can easily picture himself in his place.

He knows, far too intimately, what it feels like to watch his brother slip away and not be able to do a damn thing about it. If it was Dean who had been dying, and he was offered a chance, however slim or morally questionable, he knows he would have taken it. Wasn't that what they'd both decided, when they'd turned their back on the trials?

He can still here Dean's voice, telling him fervently, "Don't you dare think that there's anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you." When Dean had spoken those words, it hadn't been a surprise, but an affirmation of something he has known all along. And by giving up their one chance to close the gates of hell, Sam had pretty much promised Dean the same.

Isn't that what Dean's "betrayal" boils down to, in the end? They have lost so much over the last few years- the thought of Kevin's undeserved, gruesome death, makes his eyes sting anew- that Sam feels as if his whole world has narrowed. Charlie, Castiel, Garth, Jodie Mills are all still alive, all good friends, but they can be taken away from him at any time, because if he has learnt nothing else in the last nine years, it is that fate is unspeakably cruel to the Winchesters.

But Dean is different. Sam knows, somehow that he can never truly lose him, no matter what the world throws at either of them. Deep down, he can't find it in himself to be angry with the man who is his partner, his best friend, the last of his family.

"Sammy, come on man," Dean repeats desperately as the silence stretches. "Please say something."

"What do you want me to say?" he asks softly, "That I'm pissed? What good does that do either of us?"

Dean flinches, lowers his gaze. "Sam, please-"

"Of course I'm pissed," Sam continues bluntly. "It was fucking awful. Having an angel inside me again-" he breaks off, blanching at the unfortunate choice of words, and Dean flinches too, bone deep.

Sam draws in a deep breath, forcing back unwanted memories. "Anyway, my point is, yes, I'm pissed you lied. But you were trying to save me, and I can't find it in myself to blame you for that because I know I'd do the same."

Dean is staring at him as if he can't believe his ears. "Really?" he asks, incredulous, "That's it?"

"What do you want me to say?" Sam asks, shrugging. "I can act like this is a huge deal, and say that I'll never forgive you, and then, what, we part ways for a week or two until a case brings us back together? And then we spend weeks walking on eggshells around each other until one of us almost dies and we get our heads out of our asses and realize, yet again, that either we work as a team or we don't work at all. How many times are we going to live that out? I'm tired of learning that lesson. Can't we just skip to the end, this time?"

Dean stares at him, still stunned, but the beginnings of hope are stirring in his eyes. "You mean it?" he asks. "You're forgiving me? Just like that?"

Sam nods. He really is. In a moment of clarity, he realizes that it's time to break the pattern of the last few years, time to face reality and accept it. They never betray each other if it isn't to save each other, and that's not really a betrayal at all. They have spent far, far too long pretending otherwise.

Dean closes his in relief. "Thank you," he says, sagging heavily against the Impala. Sam shifts until he's standing shoulder to shoulder with his brother, and it feels right. This is the way it's supposed to be.

_There's no one, past or present; that I would put in front of you._

Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Sam opens the door of the Imapla. "We should probably go," he says, "It's going to rain."

"Yeah," says Dean simply, but his eyes lock on Sam's, full of gratitude and fierce affection, and Sam smiles back at him just as warmly. Some things don't have to be spoken aloud to be understood.

Without fuss or ceremony, they get into the Impala and drive away.


End file.
